


A Truck and a Vintage Volkswagen Bus to the Future

by AuntieEm30



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gift Fic, LET STEVE AND FAM BE HAPPY DAMNIT, Multi, Nat and Bucky are Bros, New York can't catch a break, Pro Steve Rogers, Pro Team Cap, but no character bashing, implied civilian deaths, implied pre- Sam/Sharon/Steve, kids stuck alone in need of rescue - non-graphic, kids who need gaurdians/fostering, vague hypothesized post-A4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 04:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14686070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieEm30/pseuds/AuntieEm30
Summary: In the aftermath of Thanos' defeat and the return of all those who were "snapped," Steve and his Crew search the city streets for those in need of rescue from the fallout.  Who they find are more than they anticipated, but everything they've been needing.





	A Truck and a Vintage Volkswagen Bus to the Future

**Author's Note:**

> We're working in very low plot concept here - everything about Thanos' defeat and most of the aftermath is implied.
> 
> This was written as a needed fluff distraction from stuff that been going on personally, but inspired by a lovely Tumblr blog that is responsible for most of my happy Sam/Steve feels and is getting credit for opening my eyes to the potential awesomeness of a certain rare trio.
> 
> If it seems like a major break from my other Marvel stuff thus far... oh well. Re-watching WS and CW reminded me of some stuff I'd forgotten. Steve deserves some good sincere feels too, and so does Sam (and crew).

“You know, if we could afford it, I might have asked Aunt May and Uncle Ben if we could move out of the city after that first invasion in 2012,” Peter mused as he and the others trudged through a quiet street in New York, looking for stragglers and survivors. “But only if Ned’s family moved too.”

“Is your Aunt ok?” Steve asked, walking side by side with Sam. “Does she know you’re ok?” The teenage vigilante nodded.

“Mr. Stark got me have a phone to call her and Ned. God, I was so…” He trailed off for a moment before resuming. “Uh, obviously she asked me to come home as soon as possible, but… well, I gotta ration my webbing for emergencies, and city transportation is still thin on the ground at best, and we’re going in that direction anyway.” Steve put an exhausted, affectionate pat on his shoulder.

“We’re glad to have you back with us, Pete.” Peter smiled back. 

“So where is your Iron… mentor?” Natasha asked from slightly ahead, eyes trained on the surrounding partial-buildings. Peter shrugged, somewhat awkwardly.

“He and Vision went to go check in with Pepper and Happy; said they’d be back out to cover some of the other boroughs. He asked if I wanted to come along, but… honestly if I even sit down now, I won’t want to get back up for a week. And when I hit that point, I’d rather be home.”

“I’m with ya there,” Sam agreed, slipping his hand into Steve’s and getting it lightly squeezed in reply. The others were either too focused on the search to notice, or too exhausted and grateful to have won to tease.

Tony and Vision weren’t the only ones absent from their small search party; Rhodey, Thor, and an uncharacteristically solemn Loki were covering Staten Island and would expand beyond the city with local relief forces, while Dr. Strange was trying to convince city authority to let the “Guardians” assist with their ship. Strange and the motley crew from outer space seemed to have an… interesting dynamic. And by interesting, one might say amusing, if said observer could muster the energy to care. Clint and Scott had anxiously begun making their ways back to their families, which none of their team-mates begrudged. Bruce, or more accurately the Hulk, had set off to outskirts of the city, seemingly intent on just carrying whoever he found in need of assistance. Bucky and Wanda were the more helpful in actually detecting those in need of rescue: Wanda through yet another application of her power she’d been working on, and Bucky with a vitals-detecting scanner Princess Shuri had offered.

The group was suddenly paused in their watchful march by a nearby mechanical rumbling; force of long habit had all of them tensing and reaching for weapons or readying defenses reflexively. This didn't last long, as the source came around the next corner in the form of a pickup truck. It rolled to a stop in front of them, and the driver’s silhouette through the grimy window seemed to pause, before opening their door. A familiar blonde head popped up over the top of the cab.

“Steve? Sam? Holy shit, Barnes?” The Falcon let out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll be damned!”

“Sharon?” Steve asked, seeming rather floored at seeing another friendly face alive. “You made it!” The agent jumped down from the truck bed and rounded the front, dirty and disheveled, but smiling with both grimness and triumph.

“You’re damn right I did,” she replied approaching the group as they all stood down. “I could come up with about a thousand questions to ask about what’s happened on your end, what you’ve been up to, but right now…” She paused, her head tilting sideways slightly, side tracked. “What the crap. Practically the end of the world, and you still manage to make a beard look good.”

“That’s what I said,” Sam said, smirking. Steve just shook his head at the two of them in amusement. Whatever helped a person compartmentalize — he knew that as well as anyone.

She threw her arms around both their shoulders, squeezed briefly before pulling back and straightening. “I’m glad you guys are here. I’m assuming you’re on rescue duty?” They nodded. “We can work together then. I’ve got the back prepped with some blankets, food and water, first aid supplies and a couple back boards and neck braces if we need them. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“It’s much better than what we’ve got; thank you,” Steve replied. She nodded.

“Guess we better get back to it, then.” She turned to return to the truck. “Anyone’s free to ride with me while we’re looking.” Despite his earlier statement, Natasha pushed Peter to sit in the bed of the truck, since the teen was starting to sway on his feet. Without further ado, the ragged group resumed their search.

They’d not gone another hundred yards before Bucky paused, looking down at his device.

“I’m picking up some vitals.”

“Me too,” Wanda said, reaching forward, hand glowing. “Wait… multiple, actually.” The two of them approached the same mostly-collapsed building; what looked to be an older, narrow house. The others still walking followed, and Sharon pulled the truck to a stop. 

“Can you tell where they are inside?” Steve asked. Bucky frowned.

“Looks like they’re under ground-level; must be a basement,” he replied.

“Whole front end’s down,” Sam noted, “Best bet would be a cellar door around the back, I’d say.” So the ragged band of Avengers quickly filed down the narrow path between one ruined house and the next, climbing over rubble when necessary. Reaching the back end, they found a cellar door as predicted, and found it covered in wreckage of the house. Bucky passed the scanner off to Sam, while he, Steve and Wanda began the work of gaining access. Eventually Wanda had to focus on stabilizing what was still standing of the house over and around the door so that it wouldn’t collapse completely from the disturbance; Spider-Man assisted. Finally the double metal doors were cleared, and Steve and Natasha pulled them open, and they and Sam were the first to tentatively step down into the basement.

“Is anyone down here?” Steve called as they descended. “You can come out or call; we’re here to help. We can get you to a safe place.” 

“Who- Who are you?” a very frightened, very young voice answered.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. Steve silently agreed.

“My name’s Steve,” he replied out loud. “And Sam and Natasha are with me. We’re not gonna hurt you. Is anybody injured? Or stuck under something? Can you show us where you are, or tell us?”

A small head of curly dark hair peaked up from behind some dusty storage bins. “We’ve only been stuck in the basement, but Terry’s got a broken leg!” Steve held up a loose hand, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

“Is it alright if we come over there? How many of you are here?”

She edged out a bit more into the open tentatively; she looked to be roughly six or seven. “It’s Terry, Joanna, and me.” She looked over behind the bins, and someone must have given her a silent signal, because she waved them over.

Rounding the corner, the saw the two other children, Terry, being the one sitting against the wall with his leg stretched out and wearing a grimace of pain, looked to be the oldest at about ten. Joanna was plainly the youngest at three of four. Sam immediately knelt by Terry. 

“Don’t worry, I can take care of that leg of yours until we get you to a hospital.” The boy nodded bravely. “Can you tell me how it got broken? That could affect how it needs to be fixed.”

“When- when the rest of the house started going down, I lost my balance, and a cinder block fell on it,” Terry gritted out under Sam’s careful inspection.

“We got it off!” little Joanna said, indicating herself and her older sister. 

“You must be very strong,” Natasha said encouragingly. Steve was glad she was helping them stay calm.

“Do you know where your parents are?” 

“Da-“ Terry’s breath hitched. “David and Louisa, they’ve been fostering us for three months. They told us to run down here, and… and we haven’t seen them since. That was more than a day ago.” Bucky corroborated.

“I’m not reading any other vitals in the house - what’s left of it,” he said over Steve’s earpiece.

Shit.

“They’re… they’re gone, aren’t they?” The middle girl, Rosa, asked. Sam hesitated, not wanting to lie, but not wanting hurt these children more than they already had been.

“They might be.” Steve jumped in.

“If they might have been forced away from the house, and they are able to come back, we can leave information about where we’ll take you to get looked after.” But the kids seemed to know better that to be optimistic. Rosa hugged her little sister, and Terry was rapidly blinking.

“I know this is horrible, and that you’re scared,” Natasha said quietly. “But you won’t be alone. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

The three exchanged looks, silently communicating, before seeming to unanimously place their trust in the these unconventional rescuers. Rosa quietly took Nat’s hand, Joanna shyly raised her hands in the universal childhood gesture, and Sam answered by easily plucking her up and settling her on his hip. Terry allowed Steve to lift him, careful not to jostle his broken tibia, and the little group carefully made their way up the cellar stairs into the light.

**************

The kids had been brought to the truck, fed and hydrated, and Terry’s leg set with help from a bit of Peter’s webbing. Sam had looked them over for any more injuries and found nothing beyond some scrapes and bruises, and minor dust inhalation. Soon enough, they were on the move again. Terry was quiet and drifting a bit, seeming not long for the waking world. Rosa and Joanna, meanwhile, had conked out within minutes of the truck starting to rumble along. They also had plaintively asked Steve and Sam to stay with them in the truck bed.

Terry sat next to Sam, nodding off a few minutes after receiving some child-safe pain meds. Rosa sat between Steve and Sam, her legs half draped over Sam’s lap. Joanna, meanwhile, had switched From Sam to Steve while Sam was tending to Terry, had refused to be released from Steve’s hold, and there she remained, head pillowed on his broad chest and fingers loosely curled into the indent where the iconic star used to be. Judging by the expression his face, Sam’s partner had precisely zero issues with this arrangement.

In fact…

Yep. Sam could read Steve like a book by now. He could take note of the way his arm braced her against him protectively, the way he’d gradually seemed to tuck her dark head under his chin, the way his free arm had at some point gone around Rosa’s shoulders as well. Most of all, he could see the subtle but deep yearning slowing growing in his face, in his eyes.

“Steve…” Sam started, not knowing how he would continue. Turned out, he didn’t have to.

“Wait, let me guess,” Steve mused quietly. “We were wanted fugitives until about five hours ago, and even now we don’t really have any clue about our legal status. We don’t actually currently have paying jobs or steady income. Any social service would have to be practically radical to place a single kid with us, let alone three. Never mind that likely neither of us have legal residences anymore. Believe me, I’m aware.”

Sam sighed. He couldn’t really lie to Steve any more than he could lie to himself.

“You’re not alone in wanting it, though,” he whispered. And it was true. Going off the admittedly very limited interactions they’d had, the three seemed like great kids, and he couldn’t deny that he too was starting to feel inordinately protective toward them. It had been, what, 45 minutes, an hour tops? That had to be some kind of record.

His momma had been pestering him about when she would get any grand-babies from him, he remembered morosely. That is, before he’d been tossed in the Raft with the others, broken out, and gone on the run to do covert ops half a world away. He hadn’t quite reached the point of wanting or even being ready to settle down in that way when he met Steve, and it wasn’t a thought that really sprung up much during their ongoing search for Bucky, but when he suddenly found himself living on the move and jumping from mission to mission almost constantly, he suddenly realized how much he wished they could just stop.

He remembered how his mother had cried with relief when he was finally, finally able to call her. He’d cried a bit too.

“Look on the bright side,” Sharon called from the cab, interrupting his musings. “ T. Ross just got axed as Secretary of State, Everett’s actually started acting reasonably in the last couple years, King T’Challa is reaming the UN a good one for the crap they’ve been pulling in that way he has, and pretty much the entirety of the US government is trying to kiss up to Captain Danvers. She seems pretty reasonable. If you ask her, she might put in a good word about letting some people with the best protective capabilities look after the ones who are pretty much helpless. At lest until everyone who got brought back can be accounted for and custodial records are sorted out.”

“Huh,” Steve responded. “I guess that is bright side.”

*************

Six Months Later:

It was a surreal sort of limbo, Steve thought. The world was still in the process of getting back to “normal,” but progress was happening every day. Families had been reunited, and those that couldn’t were officially noted as such. Many people were still living in the emergency relief shelters that had sprung up following Thanos’ defeat. He and Sam (along with Bucky, Nat, Clint, and Scott) were officially citizens again (Wanda for the first time). The process had been a bit muddier for some than others. Sam was reinstated at the VA and had convinced Steve to follow for the time being - he joined the veterans running the art therapy program. (He tried to persuade Bucky to come in for help, but he wanted to keep a distance. Take time to breathe.) Sam’s mother had hooked them up with a landlord friend who asked for only the first month, allowing them to spread out the security deposit on a place over the course of the first year, adding only a bit to each month. They’d also recently looked up the first Justice of the Peace they could find who was back in business, because damn if Steve was going to wait too long again… a sentiment Sam whole-heartedly agreed with. Sam’s mother nearly boxed him in the ears when she heard they were court-housing such on occasion and depriving the family of a proper ceremony, but they soothed any ruffled feathers with a spruced-up celebratory Sunday dinner that weekend. Natasha and Bucky were witnesses, awkward and insufferable in turn. When the group went to dinner afterward in celebration, the two tried to out-do each other with who could give the longest and most emotional / dramatic-sounding toast… in Russian.

So they were employed, vaguely set up in a minimally-furnished small house, legal citizens, and very happily married. Things were looking up. As for being Avengers… the Powers-that-Be who were still in power had tiredly asked for the group to refrain from Avenging for the time being, barring extreme emergencies, until they had time to work out a better system of accountability than the Accords. Thank Christ.

So, the world was recovering. It was somehow approaching good.

There was one thing missing… or more accurately, three things.

Sam and Steve had been to the shelter to visit Terry, Rosa, and Joanna nearly every day that they were allowed. Natasha did frequently as well, sometimes dragging Bucky along - though the two of them, Bucky especially, usually made the shelter security rather nervous (“It might help if you got a damn haircut, Barnes,” Sharon had offered once when she was visiting as well). It was no secret that they were building a case for their suitability to foster the three displaced kids, and they could often be found reading to them, helping them study, sometimes bringing them school supplies or small stuffed animals or extra clothing essentials, playing card games or taking a ball outside to toss around, and overall getting to know them and their needs. Building bonds of trust and hope with them.

And now, it was finally coming together.

“You both understand, of course, that your case is rather uncommon,” Mr. Nolte stressed. “And a bit unprecedented. We wouldn’t normally place children with potential caregivers who’ve been established as recently as you have. We’d be putting a lot of faith in you two.”

Sam nodded, taking Steve’s hand as they sat across from the social worker. “We understand.”

“I want to make sure you do. Just because things have been so hectic since the crisis ended, and we have a great many children who need homes, doesn’t mean we can loosen our standards… even for those who’ve jointly saved our asses,” he humbled the last bit, before straightening.

“That being said, we have of course taken note of how dedicated you are to helping them recover and be as happy and healthy as possible, even while not in your custody. We do appreciate that, and it gives a good message to everyone involved. 

“So, with that and all the information you’ve provided for us - VA daycare for Joanna, nearby school for the others… not to mention your records, as - ahem - unique as they are… You will be under much more frequent observation that a couple normally would, let me make that clear. Between how recently you two settled down and the fact that you’re taking in three at once, it’s just to be safer for everyone. And the final adoption process will not be rushed for you two any more than it would be for regular foster parents. But given the obvious thought and preparation and dedication you’ve put into this, and how much the children have been asking about when they can go with you… I’d say you’re good to go today.”

Steve let out a rush of air. It was finally happening.

“Thank you, Sir. I can’t tell you what this means,” he said earnestly, holding out a hand. Mr. Nolte accepted it with a smile.

“I’ve been in this work a long time, Captain,” he replied. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

He led them to where the siblings were bunked purely for procedure’s sake; Steve and Sam knew the way by heart. They were both wearing shit-eating grins they couldn’t contain by the time the reached their destination.

“I hope you munchkins got your stuff ready to go,” Sam called out. What followed was a mad dash of bodies.

It wasn’t quite clear about which kid was hugging which adult, but it didn’t matter. Both men felt like they could burst with happiness and relief.

“We’re going home with you?” Rosa asked, her thin arms trying to hug both men’s neck simultaneously.

“You bet your bottom dollar you are!” Steve replied, making the girls giggle and Terry snort. They all knew that it wasn’t a 30’s Brooklyn thing at all and that he’d never even heard that specific phrase until they’d caught a viewing of “Annie” during one of the shelter’s moral-boosting movie nights. Which, when Sam thought about it… kind of a sadistic viewing choice, considering not even a quarter of all the kids in need of placement could be adopted by a billionaire. Getting hopes up just to set up for disappointment. Damn.

Whatever. He and Steve were finally able to stop running, the kids finally had proper guardians again (who they could hopefully one day proudly rename as “parents”), and they could all fill a hole that had existed in their lives.

And his mother got a new set of grand-babies. God, she’d be pounding down the door with enough pot-luck-style offerings from the neighbors to feed a small army. Which would probably be needed, to be honest.

After they’d gathered the siblings’ possessions and exited the building, they found Sharon waiting to pick them up as she’d offered, thankfully not with the same pickup truck, but… a vintage type 2 Volkswagen bus? Blue and white.

“What in all the-“ Steve muttered.

“Come on, remember, you like this kind of car,” she returned breezily, straightening from where she’d been leaning against the side.

“Just promise me it’s a rental, or a borrow - unless the CIA is paying way more than I thought. Those things aren’t cheap nowadays,” Steve said dryly, while Sam was trying not laugh.

“Got me there,” she shrugged. “I know a guy who knows a collector. Big fan. Told him it was a big day for you two.”

“Hi Ms. Sharon,” Terry greeted, Rosa and Joanna following.

“Hey there, my favorite mini-agents,” she said with a smile, prompting eye-rolls from the two men. She’d become wildly popular after her first visit had brought with it three wooly ‘CIA’ winter hats and three foldable ‘spy-glasses.’ “You three ready to go to your new home?”

They all gave quick affirmation. Joanna was almost bouncing in excitement, and Rosa only a little less obvious. Terry was still a bit quiet, still a bit reserved - not that Sam blamed him at all. As the oldest, with the clearest memories of both their previous foster parents and likely the system before… he could understand the boy wanting to protect himself from more attachment, and consequently more grief and fear if tragedy struck again. He was determined to be patient, for as long as it took to rebuild Terry’s faith, his childhood openness.

“So answer me this,” Sharon said, pointing between the two men. “Who’s who now?”

“Uh, um…” Steve stammered gracefully. “I’m not sure we’re there yet. We don’t wanna put any pressure on them, you know?” he said quietly.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate the lack of pressure,” Terry cut in dryly. “But when we get there, my vote would be for Sam as Dad, and Steve as Pops. To make it easy.”

Huh. Maybe it wouldn’t take as long as he thought.

“Hell yeah,” Sam muttered, pretending he wasn’t suddenly blinking a lot more than normal. “Thanks, man,” he said, putting a hand on Terry’s shoulder.

“A sensible distinction,” Sharon nodded. “So at such a time, would that make me Aunt Sharon?” she asked, giving them both a challengingly-teasing look. They exchanged a glance of their own.

“For the time being,” Steve replied.

“I would say this town ain’t big enough for two hardcore honorary aunts, but I’m not that petty,” Natasha said by way of greeting, strolling up to the group. With her were Bucky, and Clint, which was a pleasant surprise. The kids enthusiastically greeted the two former assassins they were familiar with, and Clint with a bit more polite reserve, and the adults exchanged hugs and handshakes.

“Can’t believe that same dumb punk is becoming a parent,” Bucky muttered thickly, his arms wrapping around Steve tightly. Steve let out a suddenly watery laugh, returning the hug with equal strength.

“Better to have a dumb punk for an old man than a stupid jerk,” he replied, with all the fondness in the world.

When they separated, Sam was talking casually with Clint.

“So, any preliminary advice?” he asked.

“Ha, ha ha,” Clint replied dryly. “Assume nothing. I mean, feel free to hit me up with questions if you want, but seriously, assume nothing.” Sam nodded, both amused and slightly alarmed. 

“Wanda couldn’t make it, but she says congratulations,” Natasha said. “She and Vision are still on their ‘repair and restoration’ road trip.” Steve and Sam nodded, before noticing that the kids were starting to get restless, so they started packing up kids and possessions alike into the bus (retrofitted with seat-belts). Steve had just passed Rosa her “lucky” rubber skull through an open window (so what if he was gaining a slightly morbid daughter? (he suspected Nat)) when he heard a familiar voice.

“Ste- Rogers?”

He turned, holding back a sigh.

“Hey, Tony.” The billionaire walked up to him with a practiced casualness, Pepper right beside him.

“Holy crap, what are you doing here Cap?”

“Sam and I are taking the kids home today,” he replied patiently.

“No kidding? Well, that’s uh, that’s good. Wholesome. Good for you.”

“How are you?”

“Me? I was just in the neighborhood,” Tony replied with forced flippancy, as Pepper briefly closed her eyes. Neither acknowledged that the reason for his presence wasn't what Steve actually asked.

“You were… in the neighborhood, of the displaced minors shelter… in Brooklyn?” Tony stayed tense for a moment, before admitting the jig was up.

“Ok, so maybe I heard on the grapevine that you and Wilson were picking up your brood today. Maybe I wanted to say congratulations.” Steve nodded.

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied quickly. “You know, I’m surprised you made the jump so quick after coming back. I mean, you made a lot of jumps pretty quick. But that’s kind of your thing, I guess. Jumping on or off or through stuff. It’s a weirdly specific pattern. Speaking of which,” he gestured at Steve’s wedding ring. “I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.” 

Steve rocked back on his heels, hands migrating to his belt. “I distinctly remember letting everyone know over group chat the courthouse we were going to and when.”

Tony looked at him in shock. “Court— that wasn’t a joke?” Pepper patted his arm.

“Not everyone feels the need to book a fancy venue and hire a frankly ridiculous number of people for their wedding, Tony.” He paused.

“Yeah. I knew that.” She sighed, still affectionate if exasperated.

“Congratulations again, Captain.” He shook his head.

“It’s alright to just call me Steve,” he replied, “but thank you.”

Throughout the whole conversation, Tony had very deliberately been not looking at Bucky, had had in turn been very deliberately talking quietly through the window to Sam and the kids behind Steve. Honestly, it was probably the best he could hope for.

Pepper seemed to realized that it was getting uncomfortably quiet, and politely excused herself to exchange brief greetings with Natasha and Clint. Nat then pulled Bucky behind her onto the bus, while Clint waved before setting off. Finally, Tony spoke.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say what I know I should say… to you, and Sam, and Wanda, and Clint, and even what’s his face, Scott — hell, even Nat. I’m— I’m sorry for my part in how we never were able to really trust each other.” Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry for my part in that too.” Tony nodded, clearing his throat, fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands.

“So, yeah — that’s pretty much it. Remorse, and best wishes, and all that jazz.” Steve gave a small smile.

“Take care of yourself, Tony.”

“You too, Ca- Steve.”

And then he was off. 

It was alright, Steve decided.

He and Tony had never and likely would never understand each other, but that was alright. In the end, they didn’t need that from each other. Tony had Pepper, and Rhodey, and Happy. At lease, in the way he knew how to have them.

And Steve… he was more than alright. He was approaching a happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before in his life. And it was because he, Sam (amazing, wonderful Sam), and Rosa and Terry and Joanna (their children! Someday, hopefully truly and completely their children), and Bucky and Nat and Sharon, and Wanda and Clint…

He didn’t have them - they all had each other.

For one of the only times since he’d been woken from the ice, Steve not only felt alive, but like being alive was a damn good thing.

“Steve-who-shall-soon-be-known-as-Pops, let’s go! Munchkins are gettin’ antsy!”

Steve smiled, and climbed into the bus from the past, and happily let it carry them into the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I gave a lot of the credit to Captain Marvel, even though I know next to nothing about her. Sue me. Except really don't. I needed a change of pace, which explains pretty much everything about this fic.
> 
> Basically the gist is that the people who got snapped all came back, but a) the ones who got killed in other vague forms of Thanos' Carnage (TM), etc stay dead, and b) part of the difficulty is sorting the people who got snapped and have to be reunited with their loved ones from the one's who's loved ones are gone permanently and have to find new homes.
> 
> Let it be known that I know nothing about the foster/adoption system, and I did not research it. This is pure self-indulgence.
> 
> If you're wondering why my written romance isn't especially romantic, or even particularly present... guess which manifestation of "write what you know" I'm being hampered by.


End file.
